


wearing a warning sign

by halfwheeze



Series: Winteriron Bingo 2019 (Round 1) [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky goes by James, But he melts fast, Cold Tony Stark, Dom!Tony, Dom/sub, Extremis Tony Stark, M/M, Service Dom Tony Stark, Soft Dom Tony Stark, Sub!Bucky, Submissive James Barnes, Top Tony Stark, but it's not really important, flirtation, not team Cap friendly, soft dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 15:50:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18285428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwheeze/pseuds/halfwheeze
Summary: in which james barnes wants tony stark to take care of him, and tony stark is more than willing.





	wearing a warning sign

**Author's Note:**

> this was all written in one sitting and editing is for chumps, so suffer. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy, though!
> 
> this is for Winteriron square N4: Machine Kink.

Tony smiles like he keeps a shark beneath his breast and thinks about carving out someone else’s heart. He’s done it to himself, someone else can’t be that fucking difficult, right? 

There’s a suit beneath his skin, injections in his wrists, and Tony has never felt more awake in his life. There’s a certain kind of power trip in being all powerful, but Tony keeps himself beneath his own radar. He thinks he knows how Loki feels with magic flowing from his fingertips because there is no way that he feels all that different than knowing that technology will bend to his will, will court and comfort and be  _ everything,  _ there’s no way that Loki feels better than having  _ the world  _ at his fingertips. 

Loki is one of the people that takes up a corner of Tony’s mind, as vast and cavernous that it can be now. So much of his mind feels empty for new things now, feels like a machine, feels like he can do anything. Loki takes up a portion of Tony's mind, but there are so many portions now that it's not like it matters. 

Bucky Barnes takes up a big piece as well, but it's not like that matters. Bucky Barnes is halfway across the world in a glass tube that Tony pretends he doesn't know the exact location of because bursting Rogers's bubble is just too fucking easy these days. He pretends he doesn't have a direct link up with Princess Shuri and totally doesn't roll his eyes every single time he thinks about the good Captain and his friends, because wow, isn't human expression just a waste of his fucking time? The only people he wastes his human expressions on are Pepper, Rhodey and Captain Danvers, everyone else can fucking choke. 

Well, his kids are okay, but he has to pretend that they're on thin fucking ice, right? That's how being a surly, aggressive not-dad works, right? He doesn't actually think they're on thin ice, like Howard did with him (always the opposite of Howard when it comes to being around kids, after all), but they know he's mostly joking. Shuri and Harley and Peter and the other baby Avengers who work way too damn hard to defend 34 square feet of New York City, they're all his kids. The Defenders think they're too old to be his kids, but Tony's got twenty fucking years on most if not all of them, so they can be swept into it as well, fuck it. 

Extremis makes him process his own rambling so much faster now, and one day he's going to run out of things to talk about with himself. That'll be a very sad day. 

Friday comes up with things for them to talk about though, so that's fine. She says that it's too loud when he says her name in all caps, that he should say it like any name, so he just calls her Fri most of the time now; he didn't know that different kinds of letters could be loud before Extremis, so caught up in the humanness of humanity that it was hard to think of his metal kids too. 

It feels almost too good to be something different now; he's nowhere near just a man in a can, now is he? He's thrown away almost all of the humanity that used to bog him down, and there's no need to be anything or do anything that he doesn't expressly want to be or do. Even the good Captain Rogers has no hold on him now. There are no strings on Tony Stark. He remembers Ultron, and the fear and the regret that was once there is frozen over, is nothing to him. He feels  _ nothing.  _

There's something macabre in the way that he doesn't even mind the look of his own blood anymore, as it slips down his hands when he puts too much of his human body on the line for his technology mind, for how much he doesn't care when he does it. Rhodey and Pepper would move to stop him, but he thinks that they're learning that there's something more empty in him now than they can fill, something that no one may ever be able to fill again. It's probably good that Pepper broke up with him before Extremis could ever even be needed to take hold of his bones, but it's a little sad, maybe, that he's glad to be romantically alone when he conquers. There's no need for someone physical by his side when Friday is kept right behind his temple, when the AIs he makes when he doesn't need to sleep anymore take up the spaces where he used to feel lonely. 

Feeling lonely is long over. 

There's something macabre in the way that he doesn't mind the sound of people screaming anymore. He wakes up to himself doing it enough that it's hardly a bother, after all. If it freaked him out every time he woke up, that would just be inconvenient, wouldn't it? So, ergo, when HYDRA soldiers scream when he burns things to the ground all by his onesy, that shouldn't bother him either. It's just so simple as waking up. 

Even if he only sleeps about three hours every three days now, he still knows what it feels like, right? What does it matter if it's something he doesn't really need anymore. 

The Iron Man wipes out a good half of HYDRA all by himself and the world moves on, doesn't say a motherfucking word, and Tony knows why. New SHIELD doesn't want to admit that he's been a busy little fucking bee cleaning up their motherfucking messes, and that's fine. If he cleans up a little of new SHIELD while taking out old SHIELD's trash, well, no one mentions that either, do they? Can't expose the little bits you don't like when you want to keep the rest beneath the rug, can you? Tony's always worked best with those little windows, the little slips of silence where no one else is willing to point out the elephant in the room so Tony is fine working just behind it, working in silence or in rage, he'll be fine. 

Shuri alarms him the day that Bucky Barnes is woken up without all the fucked up shit in his head, and she lets him know before Barnes gets the out from Wakanda that he deserves if he wants it. Tony doesn't even try not to smile when Shuri tells him that Barnes disappears the next day, and Rogers is pacing his cage like a tiger and the rest of the Rogues want to look for him and Tony keeps an eye on him just fine. He tasks an AI to keep an eye on their new rogue asset, wandering around in the forest somewhere before he gets to stumbling through Kenya. When Barnes waves at a camera in Nairobi, Tony raises a single eyebrow, not prepared for the idea that Barnes already knows he's there. 

Instead of relying on his better judgement (on Pepper, Rhodey and Friday), Tony pulls out the suit and he flies there at a speed that is probably much faster than any human should fly, but he's not quite human anymore, remember? He'll be fine. 

When he arrives, several civilians look at him with an expression that slips from surprise to boredom very quickly, but most of the Kenyans want nothing to do with him. He's been in Nairobi a few too many times in the past few years for most citizens to still want anything to do with him, after all. 

"Stark," Barnes greets him as Tony approaches, sitting down with the suit sinking back into his skin actively. He doesn't care who knows that he's enhanced, doesn't care who knows that they'll never get the suit away from him again, doesn't care how far or how fast the rumors travel. Might as well get everyone out of the way, after all. Instead of replying, Tony keeps his silence behind his teeth, an interviewer's technique to get more information than is initially offered. Barnes doesn't squirm at first, but it only takes about two minutes. 

"Don't you want to know what I want?" Barnes asks, as if Tony gives a right fuck what it is that the guy who killed his parents wants, as if that's Tony's priority at fucking all. Tony looks at him and raises a single eyebrow, doing his best to manipulate his physical expression into the exasperation that he actually feels. Barnes snorts, rolling his eyes. 

"Shuri told me that you've been taking out HYDRA," Barnes provides. Tony doesn't react initially, though he is surprised to know that the princess had been looking after his actions at all. 

"And?" he asks, not sure of exactly why that matters. It's not as if he's doing for Barnes, after all. Taking out HYDRA has everything to do with having a direction for all of the misbegotten rage that stokes a fire in Tony's chest and nothing to do with Barnes's sad eyes, with the metal arm that Tony keeps in his lab, with the way that sometimes Tony wonders if Barnes is just as suffocated by Rogers as Tony was in the beginning, in the end. What happens to and with Barnes is nothing of Tony's concern. The look that Barnes shoots him, disbelieving and yet still somehow reverent, confuses Tony more than he'd like to admit. He hasn't been confused in months, and he's not happy that it's Barnes that's managing it. 

"I want in," Barnes requests quietly, and Tony considers him for a moment. It's not a particularly surprising request, not something that Tony wouldn't have expected, but he is surprised that Barnes is asking. He expected to just find Barnes at some of the same HYDRA hangouts, swinging at the same heads that Tony takes aim at, he expected the two of them to run in the same circles and yet never in the same part of the Venn Diagram. It's all the same. 

"Do whatever you want, Barnes. No skin off me," he says instead of what he's thinking (statistics of the two of them working together, schematics for a new arm for Barnes, a hundred different things going in hyper-speed with Friday in the back of his mind making little tweaks on the ones that would have too much collateral damage). Tony does not  _ need _ to take Barnes from Rogers, does not  _ need _ to take him into the fold with which Tony intends to crush the world, but the bitterest parts of him damn well  _ want  _ to. 

"I want to work with  _ you. _ Haven't worked alone in a long time, sugar, and I like what you've done with the place," Barnes says, looking over at Tony through his lashes. Now that, that one is a bit more of a surprise. He wasn't expecting the curve of flirtation, the bits that feel like Barnes wants to pick him apart with his own hands without doing him any damage, and Tony is not ashamed of the parts of himself that want in. He's so completely done with shame that it barely even occurs to him that maybe he should be. 

"I'm pretty used to workin' alone, Snowflake. You sure that you can keep up?" Tony flirts back, overt in his leering in a way that he wouldn't be if he was flirting with any remotely normal person. Instead of being freaked out (again, like a normal person), Barnes takes it into stride with a sharp smile, leaning over the table between them like he can hardly bear to be so far from Tony for even the length of these short negotiations. Tony begins to wonder if they're going to be working together or mixing business with pleasure, and he can't quite decide if he wants there to be a line there at all. Barnes clearly is not concerned with that. 

"I think I can keep up with you just fine, Stark," Barnes bites out, sounding as if every syllable is some sexual thing that Barnes can hardly keep within himself. Tony is almost to wishing he would just let it out. 

"Well, if we're gonna partner up, you might as well call me Tony. What are you called now, Snowflake?" Tony asks, leaning his own elbow on the table. His face is less than a foot away from that of Barnes, close enough that he can feel Barnes's breath just a few seconds from his face. He wants to push the super soldier against a wall, maybe, maybe make him beg, Tony is so sure that he would, that he would want it all. He doesn't show any of his considerations on his face, and Barnes smiles at him. 

"I prefer James now, doll, but you can call me whatever you want," James says, and that name is much more fitting than simply calling him Barnes, or attempting to apply the misfitting label of  _ Bucky _ on this obviously new man. Tony nods, slipping into a smile of his own. 

"Well, James, I suppose I can take you home, if you wanna see where we'll be working from," Tony offers, offering out working with him without technically saying that it's what's happening. Leaving him on his toes, and all that. Tony stands quickly and turns on his heel, walking out of the Nairobi coffee shop's outdoor seating and down the street. He has an airport hangar purchased just a few streets over, just in case he gets into a situation like this one. He has all kinds of things like this in all kinds of cities, and James just happened to pick one. 

It's a little gratifying to hear the Winter Soldier scrambling after him. 

"Where did the armor go?" James asks as they walk down the street, scanning up and down Tony's body like he's going to find it with his eyes alone. Knowing that it will freak the centurian out, Tony elects to show just the bits of the suit that come out of his skin around his hands, showing his right hand to James. 

"You mean this?" he asks, raising an eyebrow and barely holding in a bitter laugh when James startles. Startling a super soldier by being strange is always the most fun, really. 

"It just... comes out like that?" James asks, curious, and he is so much more interesting than Rogers. Where Rogers would have pushed the concept of such new technology away, James seems almost rabidly curious, as if absorbing as much of the information as possible will teach him all that he needs to know about the world. He understands why James would have left Rogers’s side if he had been like this while still in Wakanda, if he had been wide eyed and ready to learn and so unlike how Steve had attempted to hide from the future in his turtle shell, scared and older for it.

"There's lots more like this at the tower, James. You'll see a lot more than this. Something tells me that you'll really like robots," Tony says, though he still doesn't look directly at James. There's no need to think he's pretty as well as thinking he's useful; competency added to aestheticism is usually what ruins Tony's normal relationships with people. Not that he wants anything close to normal with Barnes. He would rather think of James a sort of agent than someone that he is able to get close to, because then things will only get worse. He's been in the business of pushing people away for about the same amount of time as he's been in the business of hunting HYDRA like dogs, so. 

"Technology," James says, quiet awe taking over his voice like he's expecting all of the new advancements to be taken away from him at any moment. Tony won't tell him about the intricacies of Extremis for some time, if ever, he thinks. Something about a human being hardwired into the technological web that he built for himself starting before he was twenty years old would probably blow James's mind right out of his hundred year old head. 

There is no more speaking until they get to the hangar, and then no more still during the long flight back to New York. James doesn't appear to sleep, but simply leans back in his seat and seems to contemplate his entire existence. Tony hopes that he isn't considering going back to the good Captain; it would be a shame to see him among the collateral casualties of Tony's personal war against HYDRA (and against anyone else who had wrong him in his many years). It had already been a shame to take out HammerTech, as much as their developments were just watered down versions of his own, he had liked Justin when they were kids. Now, he's on a hush order in a penthouse in Queens. Oh, the mighty, how they fall. 

It's not that Tony is interested in how people run a country, a state, even a city. It's that he's interested in how his people are affected, how the people who cannot defend themselves properly are affected, how anyone who isn't exactly what this country wants is affected. He can push and shove and elbow his way through making things better for the people that truly deserve it, so why shouldn't he? The good Captain got to do whatever he wanted and call it for the greater good, so if Tony doesn't, no one can mention it, right? No one has yet, anyway. Even if Ross gives him a dirty look at every WSC meeting that Tony attends, that's fine. If Thaddeus Ross wants to take him on, he can certainly try. 

Extremis has physically enhanced him almost as much as it has mentally enhanced him. He looks about ten years younger, nothing too extreme (pun rightfully intended), but enough that it is a noticeable difference. The arc reactor, which needed to go back into his chest after Rogers had tried to put a shield through a false sternum, was pushed out by Extremis months ago. Even the scar tissue, decades old by now, was pushed out. He can likely lift as much as a super soldier, though he rarely has to eat even nearly as much as Steve used to, as Rogers still likely needs to. He hopes that the Wakandans don't feel the need to supply the Rogues with much, but that's not really his problem. 

The only ones he likes are Shuri and Okoye, with some exception for T'Challa and Nakia. Granted, he hardly knows any other Wakandans, but he imagines that there's likely an entire country's worth of people for him to maybe like and maybe dislike. 

"Where am I staying? Containment floor or somewhere else?" James asks once they make it to Tony's workshop, and Tony feels both of his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. A containment unit for the Winter Soldier is certainly an idea, but not one that Tony is likely to explore so long as they're pretending to be handy dandy friends that are working together to tear apart a Nazi organization with their own hands. Like, so long as that's going on, Tony doesn't think he's in the biz for keeping people he knows in cages, really. Though, the concept of putting the Witch in a cage is only so unappealing. 

"You can stay on Rogers's floor if you want. Otherwise, there are guest rooms on the penthouse floor. My floor," Tony says, shrugging as if he doesn't care about the answer as he turns away from James to begin running the calculations of interfacing James's new arm. Maybe he's already started working on arm prosthetics, but it's only because he already had a previously functioning one on hand (ha) and he had already been working on bracers for Rhodey. His attention is stolen by James walking  closer into his space, and Tony can't believe he didn't notice the eyeliner until now. James is wearing black eyeliner and somehow even darker mascara, distracting and dark toned. 

"How about in your room, Stark?" James says, giving him a look that pins him from face down to his ankles, careful in how lascivious it is. Tony cuts him a smile that could cut glass. 

"Well, you definitely can't call me Stark if you want anything to do with my bedroom. But, what has you wanting to be in my bedroom anyway, James? Learned loyalty?" Tony digs, because if there's one thing that he's learned in learning how to push people away, it's that no one likes to remember the pieces of their past in which they were weak. Instead of falling under it, like expected, James rises to the offense, giving him a smile just as sharp. 

"Maybe I just wanna take you apart, Tony. Maybe I wanna see what makes you tick," James says, and Tony likes his guts, even if he's not even creative in his teasing. Tony has come across a thousand people who would like to be with him in such a fashion as James is suggesting, but he doesn't know if it's a good idea in this case. 

"Maybe there's nothing to take apart," he replies cryptically, to which James raises his eyebrows, stepping just a bit closer. 

"Maybe I just wanna see how you look when I'm on my knees," the soldier answers, and maybe that's a little more creative, fuck. Tony grabs the curve of James's jaw hard, holding his head in place with rough fingers. He sees how James rocks with it, how he seems to live for it in a way that Tony was definitely not expecting. Instead of showing surprise, he grabs James a little harder, dragging him forward. 

"That all you wanna do?" Tony asks, continuing their little game as he holds eye contact with James. James follows the guidance of his hand like it's more of an influence than gravity, like it's the only thing that's keeping him on this planet, in this time stream, like it's the only thing in the fucking world. Tony has never felt powerful like this, has never wanted to feel powerful like this, but goddamn if it isn't a fucking power trip. James looks a second away from closing his eyes and showing his throat, and looks like he would enjoy every second of that submission. 

"I wanna be on my knees for you for a good and long time if you'll let me," James proposes, flashing him teeth and Tony yanks him forward. Instead of kissing James, Tony tilts James's head with the hand still on his jaw and throat, biting down onto the exposed skin that makes James gasp like he's dying and loving every second of it. James makes no motion to grab at him, to pull him closer without permission, and Tony pulls away unheeded once he's left a good and red mark on James's neck. Tony is an inch shorter than James, just an inch, but it almost seems like he's bigger than the super soldier because of how James obviously wants to let himself be pushed around. Tony finally kisses James shortly before extracting himself again. 

"Is that what you want, soldier?" Tony asks, slow yet sharp, and James gives him a nod. "You want to be mine?" Tony asks a second question, and James reacts like it's a physical thing, like it's something that he couldn't imagine wanting more. 

"On and off the battlefield, in and out of the bedroom," James confirms, Russian accent slipping into his voice where the Brooklyn had stayed before. Tony can't decide which accent he likes better, and decides that he'd like to reduce James to not talking at all, if possible. He'll be a good boy, Tony thinks, so good and so eager to please, such a pretty little thing. He thinks of that way that James will likely squirm under such praise and almost wants to take him to bed now, but instead, he sends a line of thought to Friday. 

"We're going to eat before we do anything else. You will eat enough to sustain you, and you will not touch me until you and I are both done eating. You will behave," Tony instructs, and he watches the shiver that goes through James. How awfully fun this will be, he thinks, and he confirms the pizza order with Friday in the back of his head before he lets go of James completely. He turns away from the other man, giving him his back and knowing that the soldier will do nothing with it (because he already knows so surely what James wants, because he expresses so clearly, what a good boy). 

"Come here. Not too close, but look at this with me," he commands, gesturing toward one of the boards he's looking at now. It's a projection for the schematics of James's new arm, which he's been working on in the back of his head for approximately the last two or three hours, ever since he and James left Nairobi. It's almost completely formulated, with a miniaturized arc reactor at the shoulder to stop the arm from having to connect entirely to the kinetic energy of James's body for energy dependence. Instead, the arm can be made with lighter materials as to mimic the weight of his other arm, and hold onto the shoulder with falsely composed ligaments that Tony would attach as well so that the welding on James's bones could be at least partially removed. 

He is not nervous as James considers it, only quietly concerned. He does not want James to be triggered by it, as that would be very inconvenient. Instead, James looks at him with those wide eyes that mimic his expression as he had said the word technology with near reverence, as if the only God he knew was the newness of this era he is placed in. 

"I am not allowed to touch you, yes?" James asks, even more Russian than before, and maybe Tony does have a preference. There's certainly nothing of Steve Rogers in the soft slow of eastern Europe, but maybe that's a bias that Tony shouldn't put on James, who is all new and so much more fun for Tony personally. 

"That's right, Snowflake. You're doin' good," Tony drops the praise easily, and watches as it melts through James.  _ Good,  _ he thinks, James is exactly as Tony thought. Waiting for praise all the time, melting into it when it comes and biting at the bit for more. Tony can work with that. He was just like that once, looking to Pepper for validation she shouldn't have had to give, but Tony is more than willing to hand it out, even to James. Maybe, probably, especially to James, as it feels very full circle for Tony to be the one that has him now. 

He’s one of the people that James was forced to take from, and now he gets to direct James to take from those who took from both of them. He still wants to know what James  _ thinks  _ though. 

“The arm?” he reminds the soldier, who startles. 

“It’s very generous,” James says, looking at it again with his expression of awe. He looks so different from the Winter Soldier when he's looking with some sort of reverence, looks so different from the Bucky Barnes of film reels, looks like some fragile, perfect thing. He looks like the kind of thing that Tony Stark's inner dragon would like to hoard against himself, keep safe forever. He looks like a good boy, a good thing, and Tony almost wants to make him feel that way too. But, he doesn't want it to be too much. 

"So you want it?" he asks, just to get the slow nod of confirmation that James gives him, and Tony grins. He does not let James touch him, but that's nothing to say that he cannot touch James, so grabs James's hand and takes him toward the elevator. James, surprised at being allowed to touch even this much, looks at their hands and gives Tony a soft smile, pleased and prettier for it. He doesn't even ask where they're going while they're in the elevator, too caught up in tracing Tony's hand from the base of it to the extent of his thumb, forward and backwards, up and down. Tony wonders how good he'll be with both hands, but that's not important. 

"What are we having for food?" James asks as they enter one of the common floors, which would be some of the only floors in the tower that delivery people have any sort of access to. Tony kisses the back of his hand, a flight of fancy, before answering. 

"Pizza. I just got a usual Avengers order, figured I could send what we don't eat to the lab floors," he says, daring James to question how he takes care of his people. Instead, the soldier nods, just accepting of what Tony does and who he is. Tony nods back, just a quick thing, and walks them to sit on the couch, where James sits down with a careful distance between them, though he does not take back his hand. 

"How does the suit thing with your... how does that work?" James asks after they sit in relative silence for a moment, biting his lip. Tony wants to smile at how clumsily the question is worded, how James doesn't even know how to begin to describe what he saw Tony do, but still how awed he sounds, rather than judgmental, or worse: scared. Tony isn't all that used to smiling anymore. 

"It comes out of my skin when I summon it," he starts, not sure how to continue to explain it because he never has before. Pepper didn't want to know, caught up in the fact that he was editing himself instead of dealing with his problems, and Rhodey already knew. Rhodey helped develop Extremis after all, he and Tony and Doctor Helen Cho had all handled it together in their way, Tony taking care of the tech parts, Rhodey reverse engineering everything out to Tony's skin, and Helen taking care of all of the squishy bits that neither Tony nor Rhodey were even remotely comfortable handling. Tony does not have a previous knowledge base of explaining what he did to survive more easily. 

"Is it something like the serum? Something that's with you all the time?" James asks further, still looking curious and unafraid, still looking for all the world like a child at show and tell. Tony nods, chewing on the inside of his lip. 

"It lets me communicate with other forms of technology as well," Tony adds, not sure if he should add it at all, but if he's going to be working with the soldier... And, potentially, doing quite a bit more. With the improved strength of Extremis, he may very well be able to hold James down, if he wants that. May very well be able to throw James around, if that's something he wants as well. Tony doesn't focus on the ideas that run through his head at a mile a minute, because when he does, Friday throws up blocks like it's going out of style. She's much more sensitive about physical pleasures than her older brother was, but then Jarvis never had to deal with Tony's mind going all over the technology bracket. 

"Other forms of technology? Does that mean that you also count as a form of technology?" James asks, head tilting, and he's sharp as well as adorable. 

"Yes," Tony confirms, and then he wants to show off. He wants to do so very rarely, so wanting it now almost throws him off. He reaches out to the nearest turned off light bulb anyway, sending a communication of electricity through its wiring, pushing softly until the light comes on. James looks between Tony and the light like he's the savior turning water into wine, and Tony supposes, to an outsider, that may well be what he looks like. 

It takes Tony a moment longer than he'd like to admit to realise that the look is not hero worship; it's pure lust. 

"No touching until you eat," Tony repeats as he lets the light go out, a smile taking over his features. As much as he wants to bend James over the couch and tell him he's a good boy, eat him out til he begs, put him on his knees and make him see God, it's more fun to wait. He likes the way that James looks at him like he's something worth begging for, likes the way that the Winter Soldier looks at him like he's powerful in a thousand more ways than one, because Tony is. Tony is always the most powerful man in the room now, and that burns more than anything else, really. But, that's beside the point. The point now is feeling good and making James feel good, maybe, if he earns it. 

"Just a kiss," James says, nearly a beg, and Tony can't begrudge him of that. It's just a simple little thing, something innocent that Tony has always given out so freely as Halloween candy, and Tony gives him a short, little kiss that just barely brushes his lips. Where Tony expected maybe that James would try to take more than Tony was willing to give, the soldier just smiles, sitting back in his seat, and Tony wants to smile, but he doesn't. He has a reputation to maintain. 

"Boss, pizza is downstairs, comin' up," Friday announces over the intercom, warning James where she could have just warned Tony out of a sense of common courtesy. Tony sends over a feeling of warmness, a line of code that sounds like a thank you, and Friday sends one back that just feels like fondness. She's smarter than he ever was and than he'll ever be, something like a synthetic version of Shuri or Peter or Harley, young and spritely. Tony stands to get the pizza and lets go of James's hand, making the other man whine. 

"After we eat, James," he promises with a fire low in his voice, which makes James shiver. James seems very perceptible to vocal cues, very easily affected by little, personal things, and Tony intends to take full advantage of that. James deserves to have someone take full advantage of that. He deserves some pleasure in this life. 

He pays the pizza guy and gives him like a three hundred dollar tip, but that's not his business, okay? He's allowed to give exorbitant tips if he damn well pleases, because he has exorbitant amounts of money and other people have bills and lives and capitalism sucks and... this is another rant for another time. He grabs all fifteen pizza boxes with relative ease, Extremis improving his balance as well as he carts everything over to what used to be Rogers's breakfast nook. He would go on his run at six o'clock in the morning, bright and fucking early, before coming back around seven and making breakfast for himself and the other early risers, him and Bruce drinking tea in the small, inner corner table where they would switch sections of the paper. 

Tony tries not to remember how empty the tower feels without the rest of the Avengers or Pepper around, because he doesn't reminisce anymore. He does not feel like this anymore. He doesn't even miss Bruce. 

Who is he kidding? 

"Come on James," Tony says, cocking his head toward the table and the stack of pizzas. James nods and crosses the room in a couple of strides, though he does not sit down at the table with Tony. Instead, he picks up the pizzas with his one hand, balancing them against his body and crossing over the the larger dining table at which the Avengers used to occasionally have dinner, and Tony looks at him with creased eyebrows. James just gives him a shrug, completely unapologetic. 

"Bigger table. You looked sad when you sat down. Moving," James explains shortly like that's all the explanation this needs, and Tony is not affected by that. He's not affected by the fact that James cares if he looks sad, if he seems to be struck by something that happens, if something that would be more convenient for James is not good for Tony. He is not affected by the idea that James cares. Except... people so rarely do. 

"If you insist," Tony says like James is the one that's going to benefit from them moving, and James just gives him a smile, teasing. 

"I do," the soldier replies, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Where earlier, James was all submission and care, now he's being a bratty little shit, which is so much more fun. Tony is still going to tell him that he's pretty and good and all of the things that he so rightfully deserves to hear, but maybe he'll break him a little first. Maybe, that's what James wants. 

James picks out pizza slices like he's carefully picking out war plans, scanning over each pizza and, if he finds the pizza to be particularly worthy of his time, picking out a specific piece rather than just snatching up just any pizza slice. Tony raises an eyebrow as he carefully picks the fifth slice from the fifth pizza. When James attempts to retract his hand, coloring with embarrassment, Tony shakes his head quickly, making an open hand gesture. 

"You can have as much as you want, Frosty. No one is telling you to stop. I was just wondering why you were being so careful," Tony explains in his softest voice, careful not to startle the obvious easily shaken out of his concentration super soldier. James bites his lip, which seems to be an adorably common habit for this man, before he picks out his sixth slice and sets down his plate at his spot, looking at Tony. 

"I don't remember much from the '30's," he begins, sniffing briefly and scratching his nose, "but I do remember not being able to choose what food I ate. I like to choose now, and eat what I want instead of just what's in front of me." Tony nods, because it's a perfectly valid explanation, and gets out his first slice of his own pizza. He likes three toppings: pineapple, mushroom and sausage. Clint used to make fun of him every single time he ordered it, but Clint is gone now too. Tony doesn't have to worry about his opinion anymore, even so much as the thought makes his chest hurt a little. He never thought he'd miss the birdbrain. 

Too bad he's going to have to burn everything to the ground. 

"You'll never have to worry about that again," Tony says surely, because James never will. For as long as he lives with Tony, for as long as Tony will take care of him and pet his hair and call him pretty names and help him make war, James will never have to worry about where his next meal will come from, when he'll next be able to shower with warm water, where he'll sleep. These are the things that Tony can file away with Extremis or without it, by himself or with help, and these are things that he will never let his soldier worry about again. Because, from the moment that James decided that he was coming home with Tony, James has been his. Even if Tony didn't know how to accept it until there was the implication that James would worry about anything ever again. 

"I know," James says lowly, nodding his head once. He makes it sound like a shameful thing, like something he needs to be thankful for, that Tony is going to put him on a pedestal to give him a better place to aim from, but Tony doesn't quite see it that way. James will be safe for the rest of his days, whether he's waging war or not. 

"I will take care of you if you will let me, James," Tony offer, and he knows that his voice is colored with something dark that likes to swallow him whole, something possessive and maybe a little fucked up that maybe James doesn't deserve to hear. Maybe then, though, it's what James needs from him so desperately, what James needs within a partner (in the bedroom and in the field) that will make him feel safe. Make him feel like he's worth something. Tony was taking out HYDRA for himself, for his mother's ring that still sits on his bookcase, but maybe he'll do it now for James too. Anyone who broke a man like this deserves to burn. 

"Please," James asks, looking down. He eats quickly, efficiently, though also like he's trying to enjoy every little bite. As much as Tony wants to remind James that he can take as long as he likes, he understands the desperation. He knows that he promised something to James that the soldier won't soon forget, as much as the other man seems to be obsessed with the idea of getting on his knees for Tony. If that's how James wants to be treated, with roughness and with the overt expectation of subservience, than that is how he will be treated. 

Tony is nothing if not a services man, after all. 

When James finishes, he doesn't even wait to be told before getting to his knees beside Tony's chair. Tony gives him an indulgent smile and a hand in his hair, just resting on his head and giving him permission to be there, just holding him there and letting him know that someone is caring for him. He finishes his own food like this, occasionally holding out a slice for James to take a bite of, which the other man does without complaint. This tiny submission, this little thing that has nothing to do with sex, this too seems to calm something within James. His shoulders are more relaxed than they've been since Tony grabbed his throat, and maybe that says something as well. 

"Stand," Tony says as he too stands, collecting the plates that the two of them had used and putting them in the sink. James follows him naturally and Tony is glad of it, taking the other man's hand and washing it in the sink, careful in soaping it and rinsing it off. Just as he thought, James relaxes even more with the contact, his eyes nearly sliding shut as he tilts his head back a bit, exposing his throat once more. There's something animal in Tony that likes the mark that he left there earlier, light against James's skin by now with how the serum likes to take things away so quickly. Tony will learn how to leave marks for longer somehow. 

"We're going upstairs to the penthouse, to my bedroom. Is that okay with you, or would you like a more neutral space?" Tony asks, his voice carefully monotone to show that he doesn't care one way or another. Whatever James wants is what will fly here, because in as many times as he has played the part of a dom, there's at least one thing that he has learned: doms maybe theoretically in charge, but it's subs that everything is actually for. He remembers that from being a sub as well, and he wants to be careful for James. He has the feeling that no one else has been before. 

"Your room," James says, biting his lip again, and Tony leans forward to kiss it, just quick, just to make him stop. 

"You'll hurt yourself like that," Tony says quietly, nearly a whisper, and James looks at him like he's hung the moon before just nodding. Someone needs to treat this man with softness even if he talks the game of hard submission, and if that's Tony, that's fine. He can do that. He dries off James’s hand and leads the man over to the elevator, pressing the button for his floor. He sends a quiet thought to Friday, asking her to keep the ride slow as he pulls James against him, setting the other man’s forehead against his collarbone and stroking fingers through his hair carefully. 

“Tony,” James whispers, reverent, and Tony runs his fingers through James’s hair again, turning slightly to kiss his temple. 

“You’re doing good, James. You’re being good for me,” he replies with just the same hush to it, relishing in the fact that James near so much as collapses against him. He doesn’t try to pull away, doesn’t try to rise to his entire height, just stands against Tony like he’s going to die like this, like Tony really is going to kill him with kindness. Tony wants to burn everyone who has ever hurt James to dust, even if he thinks that might include some people that he once loved. There must be a reason James ran away, after all. 

"Hey pretty boy, you're okay. We're getting out of the elevator in a minute, and then I'm going to touch you. I'm going to lay you out and make you feel good. Do you want that?" Tony asks, speaking almost directly into James's ear, letting the praise flow through James like a river. James is shaking, but Tony thinks that it's a good way, in the best way, so he doesn't want to stop. When the doors open, he guides the both of them out and toward his own bedroom, which has all of the best stuff for what needs to be done. What James needs. When they get there, he lets go of James and kisses him on the forehead, point to the bed. 

"Lay down on your back in the center of the bed," he instructs, to which James nods. James kisses him back, a quick little thing on the corner of his mouth, before he ducks his head and crosses the room, wringing his hands and looking generally adorable. Tony shakes his head of that thought and moves to the closet, pressing a button on the side of the door to show his drawer of various fun things. He picks a few things based off of a few hunches and sits on the bed next to James, hand on the inside of the man's clothed thigh. 

"Tony," James says, looking at Tony like he's everything, and Tony can barely keep it together. He pushes it down, remembering that he's giving something to James here, not the other way around, and he pulls James into a sitting position by the hand closest to him. 

"Shirt," he replies simply, nodding as James fingers at the bottom hem of it before beginning to take it off more confidently. There are scars all over James's torso, because of course there are, because one does not go through what James has been through in this life without picking up some physical evidence. The worst of the scarring, the deepest, the shit that looks like it hurt still to this day, is around James's mangled shoulder. Shuri did her best to patch up what she could from the arm that Tony had ripped out of socket, but it's obvious that it wasn't taken off properly and Tony wonders how much it hurts. 

The feeling he gets is the closest he's come to regret in a very long time, and he leans forward and kisses the skin just above where the scar tissue starts, just along James's collarbone. 

"I'm going to treat you so well, James. You will never want for anything again. You will be mine, and you will be taken care of, and you won't feel any pain. No one will be able to hurt you, because if they try, I will take care of them. I will take care of everything for you, and you will only have to be mine for it. I promise," Tony says, kissing his way up from James's collarbone to his throat, laving over the mark he left earlier (growing lighter with the second, and Tony will be making that more prominent later; he has always liked for people to know what is his). James whines, but doesn't attempt to make Tony go any faster, seeming to know exactly what it will get him. 

"I want to be yours," James confesses, quiet in it in a way that still says that he is not proud of this submission, no matter how easy it was to joke and tease about it earlier. Tony will make it easier for him with time, maybe get him pretty jewelry, maybe shower him with more gifts than he'll ever need, make him pretty armor to keep him safe and kiss his hair before he sends him off on missions. James Barnes will have a day where he is not ashamed of the quiet he will find here, and Tony will make sure of it. 

"It's okay to want this, James. I am more than willing to give it," Tony assures, quiet dominance in his voice giving James those shivers that Tony is already falling in love with. James reaches out and puts his hand on Tony's arm, finally making Tony look him in the face. 

"Please," the soldier asks of him, not entirely sure what he wants, but just that he wants Tony and he wants him as soon as possible. Tony pulls himself off of James and apologizes with a quick kiss against the other man's sternum, just enough affection that the submissive man won't mistake his distraction with anger. Even with the brattiness from before dinner, Tony no longer knows if he is quite capable of being angry with James, with the soft way he looks up at Tony, full of awe, full of things that people have never felt while looking at Tony. 

It does something to Tony that he's not sure he wants to admit. 

“Let’s get your pants off, sweetheart,” Tony suggests, to which James lifts his hips, letting Tony drag the sweatpants off of him. He isn’t exactly sure where James got sweatpants in Nairobi when he knows James had no Kenyan shillings on him, but that’s not a discussion for right now. 

Instead, he puts a kiss on each of James's hipbones and drags the sweatpants the rest of the way off, noting the lack of undergarments. When he puts them on the floor, he stands at the foot of the bed for a moment, overt in his staring and not even a bit shameful for it. James is one of the most beautiful people he's ever seen, from fit calves to knobby knees to hip bones that make Tony's mouth water up to the dip of his stomach where he hasn't been eating enough (Tony will fix that, he knows he will), up to a chest that's so well defined it bulges out, collarbones a person could serve chips and dip out of, and then... James's face. He has a beautiful face that is a shade of light pink right now, embarrassed from Tony's staring, his hair in a loose bun at the based of his skull that's been mussed by Tony's fingers going through it, and Tony is getting to like just looking at James. 

"You are... so beautiful, James," he says, simple, watching as James blushes from the crown of his head down to his chest, blood red and just so, so pretty. Tony hadn't thought he could be prettier, and yet. He strips of his shirt and his pants, leaving his boxers on. He knows the feeling of exposure can sometimes heighten the experience of submission, and he wants that for James. He wants James to have everything. He climbs between James's spread legs and cups the back of his head when he gets there, kissing him in a way that starts out light, innocent, before quickly devolving into something dirty, something downright sinful. 

He hears the way that James growls in the back of his throat, the way it turns so quickly into a whimper, and grins against him. When he pulls back, he puts a few more kisses to James's mouth, chaste things, before doing the same to both of James's cheeks, James's noise, his forehead, his jawline. He slowly kisses down James's throat, sucking on the mark he had started earlier until James makes a high noise, something that Tony wants to make happen again and again, until he hears nothing else. Instead, he travels further down, biting one of James's collarbones. 

"You're doing so well, James, not reaching for me or moving, you're doing so well. Do you want to try something?" Tony offers, making it completely up to James whether he brings something out or not. James looks at him with wide eyes, confused but not closed off to the option, before he nods. 

"What is it?" James asks as Tony climbs off him, barely holding back the whine that has become reflex in the past hour or so, ever since Tony brought him here. Brought him home. The tower is home now, and Tony is home just as much as the tower, and James will learn this. Tony is confident in the fact that James will learn that idea rather quickly, likely with a lot of zealous, based on his reactions in the last little while. Tony digs through the few things he brought out, holding up a black rectangle of fabric when he finds it. 

"This, my dear, is a blindfold. You're allowed to say no if you aren't comfortable, but you should also know that you are allowed to want this," Tony explains, dipping his head in an attempt to drive home his severity. James looks at him for a moment, biting his lip again sweetly, before nodding. "You want this?" Tony asks to confirms, and he nods back when he gets another nod. He steps forward and runs his thumb along the bridge of James's nose, slow and comforting, and James sinks with the slightest application of absent affection, completely unraveled by even the smallest of sweet touches that Tony is willing to provide him. 

"Please," James asks, closing his eyes as if to mimic the effect that the blindfold will give him. Tony wants him to have it so that he won't get so overwhelmed, so that he won't be focusing on everything happening visually when he can just be focusing on the pleasure that Tony wants to give him, so that he can relax. Tony slips the blindfold onto him slowly, tying it behind his head carefully as to not tangle with his hair. He won't be hurting James unless the soldier asks for it, and even then it may take some serious convincing. 

"Alright, love. You still want the blindfold?" Tony confirms, to which James nods. Tony kisses him slowly, still standing so that James has to lean up slightly to keep up with him. The other man has no problem with that aspect, kissing Tony like the world is ending and Tony is the only thing that’s keeping the apocalypse at bay, and Tony would. Tony would at least  _ try,  _ if it meant that James had the chance at being happy. James still doesn’t try to grab onto him and Tony is so  _ proud,  _ even if it’s some inane thing for a dom to be proud of, it’s still something small that James is so good at. 

“I want… I want more stuff. Like… restraints? Maybe? I won’t break anything, I just want… I want to feel sure,” James stumbles through his words, and Tony hates how unsure he sounds, but he’s so proud of James for expressing the want. 

“Alright, baby. You want me to tie down just your hand or your ankles too?” Tony asks, kissing James’s stomach softly as he trails by it. It’s so hard to hold himself of giving James all of the affection in the world; his life has been so devoid of it for the last seventy years that Tony can almost forget what James has taken from him, can almost forget all of the affection that Tony has missed out on because of him. Again, it’s poetic for the two of them to replace their missed time with each other, but that’s not important. 

“Um… Everything?” James requests, and Tony nods before realising that James can’t see him. Instead, he strokes his hand down the outside of James’s leg, careful and soft, and leads his hand to the other man’s ankle. It’s only a bit of a lean to get one of the restraints out of his pile of goodies, securing one of James’s ankles easily. 

"You tell me if you want out of these. You don't keep it to yourself. You may feel like you're being a good boy if you don't tell me, if you just go through with it, but that is not being a good boy, darling. That's being a bad boy, and you don't want to do that," Tony explains in a soft voice, to which James nods along, though he's biting his lip. James has been good at expressing himself thus far, and Tony trusts him to express discomfort if such an event comes to pass. For now, he puts on James's second ankle restraint with a kiss placed inside the knee above it, making James give just a little giggle of laughter. He's so cute. He has James's legs spread nicely apart, just perfectly for him to slide between them. 

"Tony," James whines, offering up his free wrist for Tony to tie. Tony grins despite the fact that James can't see it (or maybe because of it, who knows) and places a kiss on the inside of James's wrist as well, pull it up behind his head to tie it to one of the slats of the headboard. It's a bit of a reach, seeing as it's a bed that's bigger than a California King and James is only 5'9 despite how broad he is, but the restraint stretches enough that it's fine. Tony places biting kisses from James's hand up to his shoulder, just little things that wouldn't even leave marks on an unenhanced, but James still makes soft little noises of pleasure. 

"You're doing so well," Tony whispers as he nears James's ear, bypassing it to kiss down James's chest. When he leaves biting kisses on one of James's nipples, the soldier tenses beneath him in a way that makes him feel electrified, like right after he had gotten Extremis. He sucks on the one beneath him and gets an actual moan, something loud and deep and full, and he wants to get more of those sounds. He climbs between James's legs and focuses on his chest, laving his tongue over a nipple and catching his teeth on it without hesitation. 

"Fuck, Tony, please," James begs, quiet and yet so sure, so wanting, and Tony bites down hard enough to leave a mark in the middle of James's chest. James whines, crying out in pleasure and arguing against the restraints in a way that means he wants Tony to stay where he is. Tony doesn't mind that at all. 

"What do you want, baby? Use your words," Tony says between little bites, raking his teeth over all of the sensitive skin he's discovering in the range of James's nipples. James is whining nearly constantly as Tony makes red marks of his chest, biting and laving over the bites and just generally making a mess of things. He had never been with someone who was this sensitive in the chest, not even any of the women he had been with, and being with James in such a fashion just contributes to the power trip that comes from dominating James Barnes in the first place. James sucks in a breath as Tony stops playing with his chest for a moment, giving James a moment to collect his thoughts. 

"I want you... to touch me. I want to feel you," James requests, voice breaking in the middle in some places, and Tony wants to do such things to him. He wants to do things that are vastly more inappropriate than even what he's doing now, perched over a naked man who has a raging erection pressed against his thigh with a matching one pressed against the thigh of that man through his boxers. He wants to tie James up, wants to leave him open for days, wants to keep him wanting and wanting and wanting. But, now, James deserves to be able to feel something, to be able to take something and have it. 

"Alright. You tell me if anything is too much, okay? You can tell me to stop or to slow down and I will. Anything you want is on the table, James. Tell me that you understand," Tony instructs, his voice hard in the way of making sure that James takes him seriously, because this is perhaps the most important thing that's happening here. When James nods, Tony shakes his head, even if the other man can't see it. "I need words, here, James. I need you to tell me out loud." James nods again, but it's just a precursor. 

"I understand," James confirms, squirming a little beneath the pressure of Tony's pelvis, which he had been grinding down a little even if it's kinda mean to do it while expecting James to form a coherent thought. Tony has never been one to say that he is a very kind man, after all. He slips from above James's chest and kisses his way downward, tonguing his navel briefly (worth it for the giggle he receives) before kissing his way down James's lower stomach. He bypasses what James so obviously wants him to touch to kiss the man's thighs, laving marks there as well. 

"Tony, please, please, please, please," James begs, chewy on his lip like it's going out of style, and Tony would bet all the money in the tower than James's eyes are screwed shut beneath that blindfold. Taking pity on his partner, Tony takes the head of James's cock into his mouth slowly, taking in more and more of it. When he reaches the hilt, the tip of it hitting back of his throat, James is panting like he's dying and pulling at the restraints like he's going to break out of them completely. Except, James easily could if he wanted to. James could break out of the restraints as easily as anything, as easy as breathing, but he stays. For this, Tony pulls off of James, and though he knows that it feels like a punishment (the wordless whining is clear enough), it will be a reward. 

"I'm getting lube, James. Do you want me to be inside of you? Do you want me to fuck you?" Tony asks, though he's pretty sure he knows the answer, it's always nice to be sure. James stops breathing for a moment, and Tony knows that if he could see James's eyes, he'd be under the pressure of that stare, the one that says that James can hardly believe that Tony is real. He waits for a verbal confirmation before standing anyway. 

"Fuck, yes, please, Tony, please," James begs again, rolling his hips upward into the air like it will provide him anything. He didn't know that James would be so into this, so into Tony touching him and soon to be fucking into him and making him feel it, making him feel just a fraction of the good things that Tony will eventually give him (it will take so long to swath James in soft fabrics and get him used to the good parts of life, but between burning down all those that have wronged them, Tony will be getting James accustomed to a better life). 

He grabs the lube and opens the top, squirting some of it onto his right hand and warming it between his fingers. He knows that it can sometimes be a shock when it's cold, and he doesn't want that for James's first time with him. Maybe one day, when James is a brat and he knows he's a brat and he knows he can do better, Tony will be rougher with him, will engage him in more kinks than he knows how to deal with at once, will overwhelm him, but not today. That's not what James deserves. James is a good boy. 

"Alright, good boy, I'm about to start. You want this? You can nod this time," Tony clarifies, to which there is immediate and rapid nodding. He starts with a single finger, not sure if James has ever done this at all and definitely not sure of when (which is likely something they should have talked about instead of jumping into BDSM and domming a POW who just happened to become the Winter Soldier). The way that James moans, head tilted back and already so full of pleasure, there's a pretty big chance that he's never done this before, or at least for a very, very long time. Tony kisses his thighs to distract him from the pressure before taking the head of James's cock back into his mouth, sucking gently. 

"Tony, Tony, Tony," James is choking out his name like a mantra, like a prayer, like a holy thing, and it feels so good to hear it that Tony can hardly stand it. He wants to swallow James whole, not just his cock but all of him, keep him inside and never let him be hurt again. That's nonsensical, Tony's sex brain that just wants to keep his sub safe at all costs, but it means something to him at the time. He just wants James as close as possible. He adds a second finger and James just moans louder, words falling out of his mouth in about five languages that Tony recognises and one or two that he doesn't. 

"Tony, I'm ready, 'm ready, please, please fuck me," James begs, but Tony doesn't listen. He's not ready. Only two fingers isn't good enough for his pretty little sub, and Tony takes himself off of James's cock to say so. 

"One more finger," he promises, adding it so closely after the second that it's probably not a good idea, but James moans for it anyway. It’s easy to make his fingers vibrate, easy to just send that jolt of electricity and motion through himself, and James screams for it like he’s  _ dying.  _

“God, fuck, Tony, fuck, fuck,  _ fuck,”  _ James rambles, falling into other languages, and Tony realises that that may have been Italian and not English about a second too late, but it’s not important. Instead, he focuses on making James come like this, because he’s beginning to think that sex on the first try isn’t the best idea that he’s ever had. Instead, he nails James’s prostate with the mild vibrations of his hand, buzzing against it, and sucks James’s cock back into his mouth. James is nearly sobbing by the time he comes, white splattering onto his stomach when Tony pulls off about a second before it happens. Tony goes about untying him quickly, wanting to pull him to his chest for aftercare even with his raging boner, because be damned if that didn’t make him hard, but it definitely didn’t make him come. 

“Are we… are we done?” James asks, sounding insecure all over again, and Tony doesn’t want that. He takes the blindfold off of James’s face slowly, not wanting the low light of the room to hurt his eyes, and kisses between his eyes softly. He kisses James’s nose and James’s cheeks and James’s chin, slow and slow and slow. James curls against him without any resistance, letting Tony massage out aches that aren’t really there because of the reality of the serum, and Tony silences him every time he tries to bring up the fact that Tony is still hard, saying it doesn’t matter, that it can wait. 

He falls asleep to Tony’s soft voice, to whispers of taking care of him and keeping anyone from hurting him. 

And, well, when he wakes up, he finds that he does quite like how Tony looks from the angle of being on his knees. 

**Author's Note:**

> The machine kink was the vibrating. Don't ask me. 
> 
> Hope you liked it! Leave me a prompt @halfwheeze on tumblr or in the comments!


End file.
